


The Templar and the Apostate

by thefallentree



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Love Triangles, Magic, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 09:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30104082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefallentree/pseuds/thefallentree
Summary: Vhenan Lavellan, a Dalish elf, unexpectedly finds herself at the head of the Inquisition. While Inquisitor Lavellan feels like a fraud accepting this new title of Herald of Andraste, she accepts the position and knows the fate of the world is at stake. Torn between her identity and new title, the Inquisitor also is torn in matters of the heart. Cullen, the beautiful strong ex-templar, and Solas, the wise and enigmatic mage, both love the Inquisitor in different ways, but she has yet to make up her mind.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Solas/Original Female Character(s), Female Lavellan & Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford/Solas, Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 1





	1. The Dawn Will Come

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fan fiction since 2014, and I am so excited to be here in this moment with you all! Yes, this will eventually turn into some lovely, angsty smut - but at this point, I've got to set up the story. This moment takes place right after the avalanche that destroyed Haven.

Snow was beautiful but dangerous, and when it became a blizzard the former was entirely forgotten. The Herald had come face to face with Corypheus, come out alive, and now felt as though she was doomed to die in the blizzard as she made her way north, south, east, west? She wasn’t entirely sure anymore. Though she was unsure, she made her way through the blizzard and hoped that signs of life would soon become apparent. Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days, and soon the beauty of the snow was forgotten entirely - it was a frozen wasteland. 

  
A campfire? A carriage? They seemed recent, untouched by the snow. She must be on the right path. Had Haven been able to escape the avalanche in time? She shivered at the thought, but there must be a way forward.

  
The wraps around her feet were useless against the snow. She wasn’t used to this in the Free Marches. Just one more step, she thought in vain. One more step turned to another, and another, and another. It was endless. 

The Herald couldn’t remember how long she had been walking, but she thought for only a moment that she could smell the smoke from a fire. Probably her mind playing tricks on her again. She thought she could smell it four or five times before only to find nothing but the cold, wet snow. The anchor on her hand twinged slightly as her heart pounded. Her breath became slow, and her legs collapsed beneath her. 

  
“There! It’s her!” Cullen’s voice rang in her ears. _Cullen_ , she thought. They made it.

“Thank the Maker!” Cassandra’s voice now. The Herald couldn’t see them, her eyesight was too blurry, but she could hear them. For a moment she wondered again if it was just another cruel trick of the mind, but this time she felt arms around her. She felt warmth. She felt the all too familiar presence of the Commander Cullen. She was weightless as he lifted her from the ground, and the Herald closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep. 

  
“Maker, she’s freezing,” Cullen’s voice was soft. 

  
“Take this,” Cassandra passed over a fennec fur scarf that had been wrapped around her belt. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. Cullen, get her to camp as quickly as you can.”   
Cullen heard these last words in passing as he was already making his way down the snowy slope faster than he felt he had ever gone before. He could hear the shallow breathing of the Herald in his arms. Vhenan - he corrected himself, she had never been fond of the title Herald. The name echoed in his mind. He felt her shudder in his arms. He quickened his pace. The camp was close now.

  
“I’ve got her,” he called to those at the camp. “I’ve got her.” He looked down at the cold elf in his arms before she was whisked away for healing. He could still feel her there, cradled close to his heart. 

* * *

Vhenan’s eyes, still bleary with sleep, opened to see the white canopy of a tent overhead. At first, she was confused, but then she remembered. Corypheus, the trebuchets, the avalanche, the snow, and Cullen. She remembered shivering in his arms before arriving at camp. She tried to sit up.

  
“Ah, ah, ah” Mother Giselle gently warned. “Not yet, you are still far too weak. Rest now.” She put a warm hand on her shoulder, and began to pray.   
Her voice was soft, the tent was warm, and Vhenan’s eyelids were heavy. She closed her eyes again and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.   
“Is she alright?” Solas inquired. His eyes darted from the Herald to Mother Giselle. Mother Gieselle hushed Solas and gave a nod to indicate that she was indeed alright, but she did not stop her prayers, nor did she remove her hand from the Herald’s shoulder all night long. 

* * *

  
After a few nights under constant supervision, the Herald was deemed in good health, and she once again was able to resume her duties; however, there were those who didn’t think it was quite time. Cullen insisted that she remain under the care of Mother Giselle and Josephine agreed. So she spent her days under her canopy, near the fire, and she listened to the bickering of her companions. It seemed as if nothing had changed. 

  
“We cannot simply ignore this! We must find a way!” Cassandra shouted. 

  
“And who put you in charge?” Cullen asked. Cassandra’s gaze was fire. “We need a consensus or we have nothing!” 

  
“Please, we must use reason,” Josie pleaded. “Without the infrastructure of the inquisition we’re -” 

  
“That can’t come from nowhere” Cullen interrupted. 

  
“She didn’t say it could,” Leliana said. 

  
“Enough!” Cassandra shouted hoping to put an end to this. “This is getting us nowhere.” 

  
“Well, we’re agreed on that much,” Cullen said. 

  
The Herald sat up slightly to watch the four of them and listen. It had been the same night after night. They fought, it ended, and it started again the next night. Mother Giselle turned to see the Herald propped up watching the display. 

  
“Shh, you need rest” she said. 

  
“They’ve been at it for hours.” The Herald’s tone was flat. 

  
“They have that luxury thanks to you. The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt we turn to blame. In fighting may threaten as much as this Corypehus.” The mention of that name piqued the Herald’s interest. 

  
“Do we know where Corypheus and his forces are?” she asked. 

  
“We are not sure where we are. Which may be why despite the numbers he still commands there is no sign of him. That or you are believed dead. Without Haven we are thought helpless, or he plans for another attack. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature only his affect on us.” 

  
“If they’re arguing about what we do next, I need to be there,” the Herald said hoping to put an end to this in fighting. 

  
“Another heated voice won’t help,” Mother Giselle warned. “Even yours. Perhaps especially yours. Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand and fall, and now we have seen her return. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear, and the more our trials seem ordained. That is hard to accept you know? What we have been called to endure, what we perhaps must come to believe.”

  
“I escaped the avalanche barely, perhaps,” the Herald said, “but I didn’t die.” 

  
“Of course, and the dead cannot return from across the veil, but the people know what they saw or perhaps what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?” Mother Giselle asked. 

  
“Mother Giselle - I just don’t see how what I believe matters. Corypheus is a real physical threat. We cannot match that with hope alone.” The Herald got up from her cot. She walked away from the fire, away form Mother Giselle. She glanced over at Josephine and Leliana talking, Cullen standing alone at the corner of his tent, and Cassandra planning. 

“ Shadows fall  
And hope has fled”

Mother Giselle’s voice sang out from behind the Herald. It broke the agonizing silence of the night. Leliana brought her head up from her knees to see the source of the sound, her previously furrowed brow had softened into an expression of curiosity. 

_“Steel your heart_  
_The dawn will come_

_The night is long_  
_And the path is dark_  
_Look to the sky_  
_For one day soon_  
_The dawn will come”_

Cassandra looked up from her planning, Josephine turned her attention. Mother Giselle stood by the Herald now. 

_“The Shepard's lost”_

Leliana’s voice joined Mother Giselle’s. 

_“And his home is far”_

A chorus of Inquisition members joined, and soon the night air was filled with the voices of hope. Men and women alike began to kneel before the Herald. Solas watched from the edge of the camp as men and women of human birth knelt before the Dalish elf. 

_“Keep to the stars_  
_The dawn will come_  
_The night is long_  
_And the path is dark_  
_Look to the sky_  
_For one day soon_  
_The dawn will come_  
_Bare your blade_  
_And raise it high_  
_Stand your ground_  
_The dawn will come_  
_The night is long_  
_And the path is dark_  
_Look to the sky_  
_For one day soon_  
_The dawn will come”_

When the song ended, the voices still lingered in the Herald’s ears. Her eyes were wide. This was the first time she had seen this display of her people. She wondered what this meant for the future, for the Inquisition. How would they find a home? How would they find a way? But that familiar voice returned. 

  
“An army needs more than an enemy,” Mother Giselle said. “It needs a cause.” She walked away towards her private tent, and the men and women who knelt before the Herald rose and bowed their heads before turning to return to their posts. The Herald looked where Solas had been and noticed where he once stood was empty. 

  
“A word?” His voice came from her right. She followed him wordlessly until the cheers, laughter, and voices of those at the camp disappeared. They were in only moonlight, and the space they occupied felt vastly more open than the closeness of the camp. With a wave of his hand Solas lit the torch positioned on the edge of the camp with veil fire.The herald walked closer to warm herself. 

  
“The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting,” Solas said. “Their faith is hard won lethallin, worthy of pride, save one detail - the threat Corypheus wields. The orb he carried it is ours. Corypheus used the orb to open the breach, unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. We must find out how he survived, and we must prepare for their reaction when they learn the orb is of our people.” 

  
“Alright,” the Herald said. “What is this and how do you know about it?” 

  
“Such things were foci, said to channel power from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remains are references in ruins and faint vision of memory in the fade echoes of a dead empire, but however Corypehus came to it the orb is elven, adn with it he threatens the heart of human faith. 

  
“Even if we defeat Corypheus, they’ll find a way to blame elves.” The Herald had seen it before. She knew of cruelty at the hands of humans, and she knew that they were not soon to forget this cruelty. 

  
“I suspect you are correct. It is unfortunate, but we must be above suspicion to be seen as valued allies. Faith in you is shaping this moment, but needs room to grow.” Solas turned his gaze from her and looked out across the cold landscape. 

  
“Do you have faith in me, Solas?” The Herald’s brow darkened waiting for his response. 

  
“Yes, Herald.” He answered quickly, but he did not turn his eyes to meet hers. He still stared out at the vast expanse before them. “I do, actually.” The Herald saw the corner of his mouth turn up into a small grin. “But come, we should get back before your caretakers wonder where you have gone off to.” He turned and began to make his way back towards the camp. The veilfire extinguished with the flick of his wrist, and the Herald followed him. 


	2. Frescos and Doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some major fluff here! My Inquisitor is a little shy at first, but once Solas gets to know her things start getting mighty fluffy. Please enjoy! Thanks for all the reads so far. I can't wait to continue this.

_ Inquisitor,  _ Vhenan thought. It had been difficult getting used to Herald, and now she found herself under a new, weighter title. Although, there were things about it that she liked. It was no longer directly tied to Andraste, a martyr she felt no true connection to. In her clan, they worshiped the Elvhen gods, and the Maker meant little to her.  _ Inquisitor,  _ she thought again letting the syllables sink in. 

“Inquisitor?” Solas’ voice interrupted her thoughts. “Lost in thought, are we?” He walked behind her through the great hall towards a door to the right, a book in his hand. 

“Only for a moment,” she said. “Have you settled in alright?” 

“Yes, yes,” he answered. “Come and see what I’ve been working on.” He motioned for her to follow. She watched his lithe elegant walk and followed him through a door into a very open circular room. He gestured towards the wall at the start of a beautiful painting. Beautiful soft shades of orange faded to grey and were intersected by jagged lines. For a moment the Inquisitor was struck by the beauty, but she then realized these jagged lines, this tension in the work - it was the breach and Haven. 

“Solas,” her hand hovered above the image as she stared, “this is -” 

“It’s not quite finished yet,” he interrupted her. “I’ve only just begun. Soon, Inquisitor, this room will be filled with your story.” He turned towards the desk in the center of the room and placed the book on the far corner. “I hope that it is to your liking?” 

“Solas, it’s beautiful.” She turned to face him and began to close the gap between the two of them. “I’ve never seen paintings like these.”

“They were forgotten,” he said. “I have seen many images like these in my time in the fade. It is my hope that when we are gone, these will remain, and they will still tell the story of the Inquisition so that it may never be forgotten.” He leaned his hips back on his desk and crossed his arms. His tone was serious, but his expression had a gentillity that only appeared when he was talking to her. 

“Thank you.” She wanted to reach out and put a hand on his arm, or take his hand in her own, but there was a sternness to his posture that made her think twice. Back in the Free Marches, she would have easily done this with any member of her clan as a sign of love and gratitude, but Solas was different. “May I ask you something?” she said. 

“Of course,” he said. “Ask anything you’d like.” 

“At Haven, I felt we became close. I wanted to -” she stopped rethinking her words. Vhenan had never been quite good with expressing herself in words, especially when it came to matters such as this. “I’m sorry, this seems a bit inappropriate.” She only turned about halfway before Solas reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. The feeling of his hand on her made her heart race. 

“Lethallin, you may speak freely with me.” He gently smiled and allowed his hand to fall. 

It was true that the pair had become close at Haven. Solas regaled tales of his walks in the fade, discussed theories of magic, asked her questions about her clan’s culture, and exchanged jokes - but he had never spoken her name. Was she wrong in thinking that he only softened around her? Was she wrong to think that he saw her as anything besides Inquisitor or Herald? How long had it been since she had seen herself as anything more?

Her past with clan Lavellan had been complicated. She was taken in out of pity, and the memories of those in her clan who called her “len'alas lath'din” still stung. She only thought of this for a moment before she turned her attention back to the present. She still felt the impression of Solas’ hand on her shoulder, and she wished it were still there. 

“Solas, I just wish you’d call me by my name.” 

“Ah,” he said, “that can easily be done, but I don’t think you’ve ever told me your true name.” 

It was true. She hadn’t revealed it to him. The only person who knew her true name was Cullen - oh, but she couldn’t think of him now. The only reason she told Cullen was because he wouldn’t know what it means. It was embarrassing, and it was a name she tried to forget. It hurt her.

“It’s Vhenan,” she said. 

“Vhenan,” Solas said her name so softly and gently that it was near a whisper. “Heart. What a beautiful, yet unusual name.” 

“It’s a difficult story to tell.” Her expression hardened, and she broke her gaze with him. She could tell he was curious. 

“No matter,” he said. “I shall hope with time it will be easier to tell me. It is a story I am certain I would be honored to hear.” She looked back up at him, her expression thankful. Without thinking she reached her hand out to the hand that was at his side. His hand was cool in her own. She gave it a gentle squeeze as an expression of her gratitude which he returned.

Although physical touch was not something Solas was entirely comfortable with, it was easy with her. There was something about this woman that made him gentler. Her hand was so small and slender in his own, and he thought he could stay here in this moment forever, but she released her grip on his and their hands were no longer connected. She turned to go towards the door. 

“Vhenan,” he said, “come back tomorrow. I will have more to show you.” 

_ Vhenan,  _ she thought. She heard it in his voice again. It was gentle, soft, and warm. She felt herself smile. She nodded to Solas and walked back into the great hall, a great deal lighter than she first felt. 

  
  


* * *

Vhenan came back the next day, and the next. She sat on his desk watching as he painted the walls. Some mornings when she would arrive there would be an entirely new section of the mural already completed. Solas didn’t always find it easy to sleep, and when he couldn’t he would work to make progress for her. He wanted to see her face whenever she walked through the door the next morning, and see how surprised she was at the progress he made. When she appeared her face lit up with that excitement he had hoped to see. She stayed in his quarters all day admiring the progress he made as he worked and offering small suggestions late into the evening. 

“Is it finished?” She asked the third morning. “Is that all?”

“Is your story over yet?” He asked. “No, lethallin not yet. There is still much to be told.” He carefully made his way down from the scaffolding and joined her at his desk. She was perched atop it, her legs crossed at the ankles, her feet not quite touching the floor. He stood beside her. He leaned one hip on his desk and crossed his arms. He was so close to her that he could see the small details on her face, the dip of a scar above her left eyebrow, the light freckles that swept across her nose, the faint traces of sun weathered tattoos that swept like branches around her eyes. He could smell the sweet fragrance of crystal grace emanating from her ashen blonde hair. He thought she must have used it in her bath for its fragrance. The thought sent chills down the back of his neck. 

“It’s getting late,” he said. “Perhaps it is time we retire.” 

“Perhaps,” she said, “but I have another idea in mind.” Over the days she had become bolder with him. There was a playfulness to her that hadn’t been there before. He knew that she was beginning to trust him. 

Vhenan held a hand out for him. He slipped his hand into hers, and again that same warmth ignited in him from this moment of contact. She led him up the stairs, into the upper levels of the tower, and finally out onto a balcony. The night air was crisp and it stung his face as he followed her. The stopped looking outwards past the boundaries of Skyhold and up at the stars in the sky. She dropped his hand, and again he wanted her hand back in his own. 

“I like to come here before retiring,” she said. “I like to watch how the stars reflect in the lake down there.” She pointed to a far off lake. “I also like to watch for the fennecs that come out at night to hunt. It’s quiet out here. It’s all still, and it gives me time to think.”   
“Oh and what do you think about, Vhenan?” The way he said her name was so gentle. It made her heart flutter. 

“I think about everything, but mostly,” she paused, “I think about you.” 

“And what do you think about me?” 

The pair had gotten to know each other even more over the past weeks at Skyhold, but it was mostly over the past few days that they had become comfortable with each other. There as an intoxication that each of them felt when around the other that only heightened this moment. 

“I think about this,” she said. She grabbed his hand in her own again. Slowly she brought his hand up so that his palm was on the side of her face. She moved her face into his hand so that the two were even closer. She took a step forward. She looked up at him through heavy lids and covered his hand with her own. His gaze was on hers, but his eyes shifted suddenly and he dropped his hand. 

“Evening,” a voice said behind Vhenan. She turned to see the person she had been avoiding for the past few weeks, Cullen. 

Vhenan knew how Cullen felt about her. She knew. She could tell by the way he stuttered when they talked. She could tell by the blush on his cheeks. She could tell by the tender way he talked to her, his voice growing light and less commanding. In the past few weeks she distanced herself from him. He was human. She was an elf. She could hear the reprimanding tone of her Keeper. She could hear the jeers from the other elves at her camp. She could feel the flush of embarrassment when he looked at her the way he did. They were from two different worlds, and she didn’t know if she could ever see herself as being worthy as someone like him. 

She told him her name one night at the tavern when she was too drunk to remember what she was doing. Drinking helped her when she was around him. It made her more open, more free, but right now she was sober, and she was standing with Solas. 

Solas took one step back and nodded to Cullen. “Evening,” he said back. Vhenan took a step back turning her back on the both of them in hopes to hide the blush that now befell her cheeks. 

“Erm, right then,” Cullen cleared his throat, “enjoy your walk.” His tone was brusque and commanding again. It wasn’t the warm Cullen she had known at Haven. He passed by the two of them into Skyhold, no doubt headed for the war room. He spent most of his nights there planning and plotting when he couldn’t sleep. Once the door closed Solas began to walk closer to Vhenan. He placed a hand on the small of her back, but she withdrew. 

“I believe I’m going to retire now,” Vhenan said now feeling conflicted. “Good night, Solas.” She walked past him back into Skyhold, and quietly made her way back to her quarters leaving Solas standing there in the cold, dark night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're like me, then when you play through Dragon Age: Inquisition - it's hard to choose Cullen or Solas. Couldn't resist writing this into a wee triangle.  
> Let me know what ya think, and next time things are going to get a little more heated.

**Author's Note:**

> Can't wait to get into the relationships more! Lots of that dialogue at the end was taken from the game, but there are sprinkles of new dialogue throughout, as well as that last little question asked of Solas.


End file.
